


The Kill

by InLoveAndSqualor



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music Video, BDSM, Bandom - Freeform, Light BDSM, M/M, Self-Discovery, Self-cest, The Kill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-12
Updated: 2008-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLoveAndSqualor/pseuds/InLoveAndSqualor





	1. C1 The Kill

**The Kill**

**“This place is gonna be unbelievable.  
We've got it for three days all to ourselves.   
There’s not gonna be a single living soul here.”**

**The Hotel**

Gardens managed, maintained, preened slavishly to a hellish level of perfection. Idyllic splendour tainted with that obscene touch of artifice. Great globes and animals of crisp green hedge leaves made. Grass painstakingly cut to an impossibly flawless effect. Windows glimmered; floors and floors of windows, light pouring in and flowing through where blinds parted allowed it to enter. Endless corridors. Exotic woods: teak, oak, mahogany dressed the interior. Polished brass fixtures clashed garishly with the dark rich woods of antique tables. Old paintings of persons forgotten hung with quiet dignity on time stained wallpaper, that surely covered perfectly square patches unbleached by light. Art nouveau flowers of fading pink, yellow, green and della robbia blue swam alongside birds of paradise on a cream ground. Off white painted skirting and doors, sat by rich carpet clad floors. Door after door, each more similar to its neighbour than the last. And in this perfect prison of pretty cells and sweeping endless corridors, stood an elegant ballroom with a decadent bar. And within that stood an army. Rows of glass bottles filled with liquor of all kinds regimented next to glasses of countless shapes, sizes and colours. The room’s polished parquet floor gleamed under the heady grandeur of crystal dressed lights. 

The hotel was perfect. Infuriatingly perfect. So perfect that it made the soul will it not to be so. Forced the mind to wish for a crack to appear, for an imperfection to be present in all this terrible stagnant perfection.

This place was unbelievable. It was incredible.   
But ultimately it was utterly unbearable.

**One Week Later**

A slender figure cut violently into the now familiar and disturbingly serene scene of that seemingly endless corridor Jared had had to stare out at for what felt like months now; years even. Time stood still here, in this place. It stopped to take the time to laugh at you, to slowly drive you mad, to keep you forever aware of it’s infinite length, of it’s infinite existence. When Jared was gone, when they were all gone, this place would still be here, and time would still be here, moving down these halls, bouncing off the walls, turning peeling, decaying, wallpaper a nasty shade of brown. Time would forever be ripping slowly at all the trivial things men had placed here for their comfort; marking all with its stain. 

Seemingly unmoved by the harrowing presence of Time was that silhouette. The figure, it disturbed the calm, stale, air around it. It stood with absolute upright dignity and composure. It demanded to be looked at, noticed. It demanded all this from Jared.

Jared started towards the presence, seemingly attracted by an unseen force. Stepping ever closer, hand shielding his eyes from the harsh hanging ceiling lights. The figure was clearly unmoved by his existence, unfazed by his approach. Jared furrowed his brow and strained his eyes, moving closer still. It was as if the person in front of him controlled the very light and shadows of this hall. He willed the light to blind, commanded that Jared could not see. 

Jared forced aching eyes to glare into that awful light, focus irrespective of pain. And finally he saw. He did not, could not, comprehend what he saw, but he saw it. And at that very moment it felt to Jared as if he had lost the ability to recognise reality. His perception and thought impaired by the utter magnitude of the meaning of this apparition before him. He knew that he was looking at himself. But not at all like in a mirror. He was not looking at a copy. He was looking at another being entirely; but yet it was still him. He was Jared Leto, yet this man, this figment, stalking this corridor of antiquity, he was Jared Leto also.

That man, he was stunning. He was everything Jared wished to be; his physical aspirations personified. His skin milky pale, yet angelically glowing contrasted perfectly with hair akin to raven feathers. Dark hazel eyes were rimmed with eyeliner that Jared just knew had been drawn in one stroke. A perfect faultless stroke that this man would have made with no hesitation. He was Jared, in everyway he was Jared. He had his physical features, but he and the very fabric of his being just made them glorious. He just had that air, that eerie projected feel of superiority. Purposely he conjured all this and oddly Jared conceded that the figure utterly deserved all that he reaped.

Jared couldn’t help but feel like a cheap copy, a lesser version, in the presence of this perfect ghost. Ashamed he crossed his arm diagonally across his chest, the other he pulled over his stomach. He did not want to be seen, he felt utterly shamed by the inadequacy of his existence.

The ghost, the other Jared, wore a flawless tuxedo. Crisp white shirt against deep black jacket. The clothes hung on his frame perfectly and Jared tried and failed to detect a crease or a crumple. He looked down at himself, at scruffy black jeans and shirt, that now felt utterly inappropriate. Jared smoothed his hands down his front, apologetic.

A white gloved hand flexed and extended a pointed finger. The figure let his gesture linger, smiling broadly, a Machiavellian smile that was maddeningly charming. Perfect white teeth emerged from between plump pink lips. Totally hypnotised by wondrous beauty Jared let shock part his own and awe glaze over his eyes.

Finally silky tones emerged, glorious deep velvet words that Jared had to strain to make sense of, lost simply in the rich dulcet sounds.

“Jared,” the figure whispered. 

Cognition had come finally.

Jared nodded, and limply raised a hand into the air, as if reaching out to touch the figure from an impossible length.

The man smiled again and nodded in return.

“Me too,” he answered. His voice sounded amused, amused and threatening. As if he knew all; knew everything and revelled in the power which knowledge provided. 

Jared stepped back, nervously retreating, a sudden sense of danger taking a hold of him. 

The man only responded with further cool amusement and stepped forward. Jared was backing himself into a corner, but fear prevented him from realisation, freeing himself before it was too late. The figure was leaning in, closing the gap between them. 

Jared’s back fell hard onto the hard wooden door behind him. He felt bones jar and flesh throb. The pain induced a thrilling pleasure within him, and fearfully Jared watched his companion react. The figure’s smile broadened, deepened, twisted itself into a mocking laugh. He gave a knowing look, raising an eyebrow to match the pleased and quizzical smirk he already sported.

“What’s wrong Jared?” He purred, his words travelled as easy and rich as cigarette smoke billowing and snaking through the air.

Jared stuttered, and attempted a shrug. His mind was beginning to fail him. He felt the dizzying high of fear invoked adrenaline running through him. 

“Poor baby,” the figure laughed, raising his hand to touch a flushed cheek. 

Instinctively Jared moved, jolted away from foreign touch. His face tilted to one side, he held his pose, staring down at rich red ornate carpet. His lips quivered visibly; ignoring the intense effort he was making to quiet them.

“You understand why I’m here?” The figure breathed. Tension hung thick in the air as he spoke. Every word was infected with an alluring menace.

Immobilised Jared simply shook his head.

The figure chuckled.

“You called me,” he continued.

Jared looked up towards the beautiful demon; eyes widened, pupils dilating, disbelief carved into every action, every reaction.

“No. I don’t understand…” He stammered. Shaking his head limply.

“I’m here because you wanted me here. I’m here because you created me,” the figure forced each word deliberately through that same lethal grin.

Jared stared speechless. His composure was failing and his fear taking over. He did not understand a single iota of this moment, of reality, of existence.

“I’m here to reveal to you the truth behind your own ridiculous lies, that you yourself are too blind to see. All the crutches, the constructs, the little things that you say and do every single day to prevent yourself from having to live even one day of your fucking life as if it were real. Hiding behind a mask, a façade, day in day out,” the figure was slowly growing angrier, raising his voice slowly, purposefully, minutely at the end of each word.

“Look at yourself. It’s bullshit Jared. It’s all bullshit. The pretty boy hair, the make up, the body you’ve worked so hard to get. It means nothing. Because we both know these are all just sweet distractions.” He paused, looking over his shoulder as if checking for any uninvited spectators. 

The words of sickly sweet venom induced in Jared a feeling of shame. Shame at all the things he had once regarded with such pride. His appearance that he worked so hard to maintain, the vanity that he himself recognised, even relished, he now struggled to conjure in the face of this creature of absolute beauty. For the first time in Jared’s life he recognised the feelings that ultimately had always been within him, eating away at his all too ignored soul. Self loathing, now so painfully apparent, tied up the many strings of disgrace, shame, guilt and confusion. 

“Did you really think you could escape from who you are?” The figure spat out each word with pure, barbed, venom all through a face that was still wildly alluring.

Suddenly he slammed his palms into the wooden door either side of Jared’s head. He winced at the deafening sound, the force that rattled through the door and jarred his head. Jared felt the resulting pain, and hissed through clenched teeth.

“What do you think of me Jared?” The magnetic figure said, his voice suddenly changed, aggression swapped for the familiar and, genuinely frightening, mocking tone. He flexed the fingers of palms still flattened on the door behind Jared, his head cocked to one side.

The phantom continued, enjoyment dancing on those faultless features.

“Do you like what you see?” The figure questioned. He stared searching for the answer, willing it from Jared’s lips. 

Jared trembled convinced he could feel the figure reaching into him, forcefully, yet gently, pulling out the truth with those pale, slender, fingers.

“You are beautiful,” he admitted and then held his breath. Jared’s eyes widened in shock as if his lips had been invaded, manipulated, and had betrayed him, speaking the words of another.

The figure smiled and nodded knowingly.

“I am what you truly want to be. What you could be if you only had the fucking guts,” he spat out those words with true hatred and venom. Disgust was clearly evident in every syllable and sound. His lips millimetres from Jared’s own trembling pair, seemed to curl up in aggression. A snarl akin to that of a wild beast perfectly executed.

And then there was that other side of him again. That narcissistic smile returned. The dark twinkling eyes darting across Jared’s features. Jared felt those eyes violate him wonderfully, and a resulting tremble ran up and down his limbs. It escaped through toes and fingers; and ran straight to that commanding man; spilling out his secret desires merrily. Jared cursed his own perverted thoughts. That depraved mind of his that begged to be touched by this apparition. Willed that he might lean forward that tiny fraction and capture his lips between his own. Perversion stalked Jared’s mind, ever present, ever torturing, ever reminding him that he was a person of complete impurity.

The figure in front of Jared had been studying him intently, mouth slightly ajar, eyes smiling.   
He had the look of a man reading a curiously entertaining book. He brought his face forward, resting his cheek upon his identical companions, and pressed his lips against his opponent’s ear.

“This is an act of absolute mercy Jared,” the spectre voiced through hot breath, that felt glorious. Hot and steeped in sex.

Keeping the pleasurable contact of skin on skin, he slid his lips around from Jared’s ear, across the other man’s cheek to meet his mouth. Jared’s eyes shot wide open with absolute relief and surprise, and then fluttered slowly shut in intense, unholy, pleasure.


	2. C2 The Kill

The sinister spirit deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue in through the wavering resistance of Jared‘s lips. Jared felt utterly depraved at this moment, he felt his soul crumble at the very act of which he was an entirely willing part. He let a moan fall into his opposite’s mouth, and enjoyed the sensation of guilt stained pleasure marching through his body. The intoxication of knowing that this act was utterly immoral, truly hedonistic, was unbearably gratifying. Carnal sins erased the pain that the endlessly peaceful corridors of the hotel had fashioned. 

Jared’s superior twin slowly trailed his palms down the paint covered wood of the hotel door. He placed one hand possessively on the neck of his inferior partner and with the other quietly turned the worn brass doorknob to room 6277. 

Jared fell, stumbled backwards, as the solid door supporting his back suddenly, unexpectedly, became absent. Knees, already weakened by shameful arousal, bowed under weight barely supported. He tripped back, losing that precious contact with the warm lips of the other.

“Here we are,” that wonderful presence affirmed in deliciously formed words, rounded and smooth. He smiled, stepping ever forward, Jared shuddered, stepping ever back. 

The slow retreat was in vain, and ultimately for show. It ended as the back of Jared’s legs hit the room’s luxurious bed. Trapped. 

The apparition grinned broadly, satisfied that his plan had played out entirely perfectly. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, savouring the electricity of fear emanating from Jared; left humming in the room. With sinister joy and an exhilarated force he took a broad step forward palms outfacing and pushed Jared hard onto the room’s lavish mattress. Winded by the force of the unexpected blow to his chest, Jared gasped, then attempted to raise himself in genuine panic. 

It was however already too late. Jared’s exquisite twin was approaching at a frightening rate. First settling knees on mattress; then crawling on all fours; staring seductively; purposeful and wickedly. Jared was completely immobilised, blinking, open mouthed. His state of overwhelm and shock allowed his companion to easily climb on top of his intended prey. And to Jared’s dismay he felt the burn of amorous excitement run through him.

The charismatic figure loomed down, growing ever impatient, touched with a look of wild excitement. It reached down to the hands that Jared was limply using to prop himself up. It wrapped long fingers tightly round their slender circumference and jolted them violently up above Jared’s head. Eyes widened and an open mouth gasped, pleasure and shock breaking composure. Gently allowing one wrist free, Jared’s captor reached for the ties of the bed’s curtains. 

“It will be better this way,” he whispered. “Don’t resist me,” he followed firmly.

Jared stared up into those wonderful eyes of his, those eyes that were so like his own, and he knew he would not resist, could not resist. He looked pleadingly at the man leaning over him, begging for all this and more. Silently Jared willed him on, and his familiar seemed happy to oblige. He removed Jared’s black shirt with ease. Then bound each wrist tightly with care; all the while staring down at Jared sweetly sinister; his every look and action steeped in carefully contained power. He reeked of wonderfully restrained sexuality. 

Jared sighed at the feeling of the pleasantly tight restraints; testing their fortitude, his own physical limits. He was utterly at the mercy of his mysterious visitor and utterly enraptured by the feeling that this submission provided. Entirely lost to lust and strange carnal desires; all the sense of power and control he had always worked so hard to gain and regarded so dearly was cast asunder, torn physically from him, and it felt divine. Pants escaped lips parted by desire, and soon vision blurred until focus only remained fixed on that beautiful phantom’s face.

He sat atop Jared, coolly, unhurriedly, removing his perfect white gloves. Deliberately he pulled at the fabric of each finger, smiling splendidly. The tease of the act sent thrills through Jared, made him keep eyes transfixed on his opponent’s. 

Finally free of the garments the spectre stared at his own exposed fingers in mad delight, eyes glinting, a childlike smile of wonder creeping over his features. Jared contorted his own in reaction; in fear and confusion.

The demented man lifted his hand in a flourish and smiled sweetly at Jared. 

The back of his hand met with Jared’s face with a tremendous force. Jared winced at the pain, clenching his teeth to prevent a resulting scream. He both savoured and scorned the throbbing stinging produced, the tingling hot sensation spreading over the surface of his skin. Jared turned hiding his cheek from a second blow. Secretly hoping, secretly knowing, this would only provoke his companion further. His ears rang as hand connected with his now exposed side, lights sparked in his eyes and, momentarily loosing himself in the glorious pain, he let out a low moan. 

The tangy electric taste of blood hit Jared’s tongue, slid sensually down his throat. Silky hot. And if it were at all possible for a person to taste a hue, a tone, a colour; then Jared tasted pure unadulterated red.

The figure looming over Jared sneered at him through his own features. Twisted that stolen face into an amused smile. Seemingly enjoying Jared’s uncomfortable arousal. Jared both cursed and thanked the perverse soul sitting atop him, bestowing cruelly upon him exactly what he desperately, secretly, wanted.

Impossibly for his slender frame the man straddling Jared suddenly felt like he weighed a ton. Caused ribs to compress into lungs, made it increasingly hard to breathe. Breaths already shallow with heady desire turned into desperate gasps. The feel of asphyxiation was beautifully intense. Both scaring and exciting; sobering and intoxicating; its effects growing increasingly lethal. 

Then relief hit Jared just as suddenly as discomfort had fallen upon him, as his torturer shifted his weight, settled his face over Jared’s, allowing lips to hover millimetres apart. Snatching the opportunity Jared attempted to fill his aching lungs. The sound of a sharp intake of air echoed in the room, but Jared’s desperate bid to draw in oxygen was cut short by the violent possession of his lips by the other‘s.

‘Oh God, please let me breathe…… Just a little,’ his mind screamed.

Jared feared more than anything at this moment the possibility of passing out. Missing a second of these dreadful, wonderful, sensations; and being left to the mercy of the terrible man reigning over him.

‘I’m going to die. I’m going to die here in a torturous sea of glorious perversion,’ Jared thought deliriously. Before lips parted briefly, momentarily, from his own and allowed sweet oxygen to fill his lungs, feeding his aching limbs. 

Lost in the bliss sheer relief provided Jared failed to notice his demented attacker tracing fingers over and up his chest.

The insane, beautiful, ghost pressed nails into Jared’s neck with ruthless disregard and dragged them slowly across neck, over collar bones, and down torso. Jared hissed against lips still pressed to his own in that deep endless kiss. He moaned involuntarily, and a tongue ran over his own in response. 

Fleetingly it occurred to Jared that it was completely unfair that something so deeply wrong could feel so utterly right. If this was a dream then Jared never wanted to wake up. He wanted his family and friends to leave him lying in a hospital bed somewhere, forever comatose; so that he could enjoy these ungodly pleasures over and over again until the end of time.

The areas where he had placed his touch felt red hot, scorched by those hands. Flesh throbbed painfully, irresistibly. The slow dull ache of the monotony of everyday life was nothing compared to this; and that felt so good. It felt like that indistinct creeping pain that had been taking it’s gradual hold on Jared day by day was being smashed, completely erased by this intense flood of, glorious, immediate physical hurt. He willed for it to never stop. Willed for it to swallow him whole and consume entirely the man that he was.

The debauched being above him wrapped fingers around Jared’s waistband possessively. Taking a firm hold, he jolted the material, made it cut into aching flesh. He began to remove the buckle of Jared’s belt slowly, dramatically, pulling it’s length free from a captive home. Wrapping soft, worn, leather around his knuckle he allowed the metal buckle to weigh down a short length, so that it dangled free, glinting in artificial light. First he let it swing playfully, causing Jared to nervously trace its journey with anxious eyes. Wince at the occasional swish as it cut through the air in front of his face. With a playful cock of the head and a wry grin, completely without provocation, he savagely brought down a blow on the exposed flesh of Jared’s chest.

Searing, biting pain on first impact, and then shooting darts of it running out from that initial point. Pain so intense that for that moment nothing else was present in the realm of existence. Nothing else mattered as Jared’s mind shut down all other functions to concentrate on the terrible sensation. Jared gasped in a desperate bid to breathe, but shock and hurt prevented his lungs from functioning. 

Again and again, mercilessly, he rained down blows on Jared’s chest. The agony made his eyes water and his mouth dry. Gasps and moans, interlaced with cries and screams, spilled out involuntarily. Jared was terrified that his torturer would never stop. He feared that his torturer would beat him to death, and it occurred to Jared right then at that precise moment that the only thing he feared more was that he wouldn’t. A wild look was plastered on the face staring down at him, an other-worldly anger and hate so intense that Jared felt ashamed for having provoked it. 

“I can’t take this anymore,” Jared cried softly, fear of repercussions preventing any more than that.

Tears ran down his cheeks, wet and cool; and degrading. Fear and adrenaline wracked every inch of his body with shakes and shivers. Amongst all this, his arousal was clearly, shamefully, evident and Jared knew the figure noticed the growing tightness of his jeans.

“It’s okay Jared. It’s nearly over,” he whispered in soft soothing tones. Planting damp kisses on every immediate inch of exposed skin. Lovingly, gently and with all the attentiveness of a concerned lover.

He looked up from his supplicant masquerade, a devil in an angel's pose.

“But then it feels wonderful doesn’t it?” He teased. Tenderness replaced with seductive, pleasure touched, sentiments. He ran his tongue over the skin that he had showered in kisses, applying wavering pressure, leaving a cool trail in it’s wake.

“…Yes,” Jared groaned, all too tragically aware there was little point in lying. 

“Good,” the figure purred, drawing out, sounding each letter.

His altering moods were driving Jared insane. It felt as if a hundred minds were lurking behind those captivating, murderous, eyes.

Another blow, this one so unexpected and forceful that Jared’s whole body leapt up, arched into the air as he yelled out in anguish, up to the heavens.

Pain. Glorious pain. And all the time Jared’s mind was singing joyfully. Hymns dedicated to hedonism, to warped desires. He was so enjoying masochism in all its guises. His captor wielded power with such terrible elegance.

‘Bury me in horrific pain and sweetest pleasure. Heap them on top of me, let them pour in and fill my lungs until I suffocate and die in this feeling,’ it chanted, droned, implored.

His torturer laughed softly, yet sadistically. He placed a hand, palm up, under Jared’s raised back. And with a supernatural strength, effortlessly held him in that uncomfortable pose. He stroked the exposed abdomen of his frightened prey, relishing the hold over his willing quarry. He touched over that abdomen, letting fingers slip into jeans, trail out and feel the exposed protruding bones of hips, stroke down over clothed rigidity.

“Please….. Please stop,” Jared pleaded unconvincingly. 

The figure laughed again. 

“Oh please,” he said pouting sardonically, letting hands trail up and down, eventually resting, fingers wrapped around the sides of Jared‘s slender waist. 

“Your thoughts, they betray your words you know,” he teased, then paused thoughtfully. 

“Jared that really is a twisted mind you have there isn’t it?” He said almost giggling now.

Lips curving into a delicious smile, it looked to Jared as if his doppelganger was enjoying exploring every perverted desire that he held hidden in his mind.

“I am,” the figure breathed, eyes flashing with the satisfaction of further disturbing his captive victim.

Jared’s own grew wide, disbelief unspoken; but readily apparent.

“Come on Jared,” he laughed. 

“We’re one and the same. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t realise that. I know what you know. I have the power to see into your mind and read what you think; drink your emotions and taste what you feel.” He paused. “If I want to,” he whispered suggestively.

Those eyes, the same as always, playfully jeering. Contempt swimming amongst the opposing forces of pity and attraction.

Drawing his hand back, to his opposite shoulder, in a delightfully overstated, operatic, gesture, the magnificently sadistic man looked gleefully into Jared’s eyes.

“It’s wrong that you like this,” he said bringing the back of his hand down to meet Jared’s cheek once again. 

And once again Jared delighted in that breathtaking sensation of hurt, that wonderfully rusty taste of blood. This time it flooded into his mouth, ran down his throat, old wounds reopened. He swallowed quickly to prevent himself choking, shivering at the alien feeling, the sensation of pleasing unpleasantness. 

“Say you are nothing,” the crazed apparition ordered suddenly.

Jared stared in confusion.

“What?” He voiced, without thinking.

Another blow.

“Say it. Say you are nothing. You are less than nothing,” he commanded exultantly.

“I am nothing,” Jared stuttered, revelling in the exquisite sensation of giving in to absolute truth, swallowing blood again.

“Tell me that you are worthless,” he sighed quietly. Evil rippled under a surface of tranquil beauty and calm civility.

“Tell me,” he demanded now, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming in joyful anticipation.

“I am fucking worthless” Jared announced up to the heavens, and tears escaped from the corners of aching eyes.

Why did this awful humiliation feel so exhilarating? Why did it satisfy Jared so entirely?

Pain and pleasure in all their forms compete with each other within Jared to be felt; and in a moment of uneasy clarity, he feared he will buckle and break under their warring might.


	3. C3 The Kill

Painfully aware of his own breathing, the pumping of blood in his veins, Jared felt the weight of existence descending to rest upon his shoulders. Paradoxically time and its passing suffocated and soothed. Pain had unexpectedly become the remedy for living a life so utterly and purposefully devoid of any genuine feeling, sensation. A life comatose corrodes the soul; erodes the humanity.

He looked up at his beautiful captor and almost melted at the expression he displayed. So exquisite a visage; and so touched with demented glee and seductive self-assuredness. That ghost let out a breath, warm and overstated, and smiled softly. He slowly raised the belt that he had wielded so cruelly moments before, and studied its length. Jared winced in reaction; recoiled in fear, turning his face and tensing his body, readying for a blow. The demon smiled sweetly, apparently amused, and unwrapped the worn leather from around his hand. He pulled it through pale fingers held perfectly, naturally still. He suspended the belt before Jared, who lay trapped in a state of powerless hypnosis, eyes wide and fixed forward. He stared transfixed, caught, a rabbit in the headlights of a speeding car. He was paralysed by the immense concentration that comprehension now seemed to require. 

Leaning forward, wordless, wondrous, the spectre threaded and pulled the belt under Jared’s neck. It displayed controlled pleasure at the small gasp Jared made; a response to the contact of cool leather on desire warmed skin. Skilfully, and with impossible speed, he buckled the belt around Jared’s quivering neck. He trailed fingers softly over its surface; let tips fall lightly into its tremor wracked shallow. Pressed lightly on adam’s apple and caused goosebumps to appear on skin already shuddering with the beat of an intensely strained pulse. The other hand he twisted carefully, wrapping the free length of the belt over its knuckle. Done he gave a gentle tug on the tensed, outstretched, leather to ensure he had achieved his objective; simultaneously still running the other hand over the ashen skin of Jared’s neck. 

Jared’s mind screamed a thousand warnings, fears and truths. He was growing all too aware that his neck was in a noose. Jared wrapped nervous fingers around the cords that bound his wrists; they were beginning to feel unbearably tight. Shuddering fingers fumbled desperately with knots and shook visibly despite the intense effort he was employing to quieten them. Danger had hit him as suddenly and as forcefully as his torturer’s blows. Escape was impossible; and although some primal instinct told him to strive for freedom; he knew truly he did not desire it, had no intention of achieving it. Fear mixed with desire was the most perfect drug he could imagine, could consume. He wanted to drink it in until he choked, until his lungs failed him and his heart gave up and his body closed down. Because then somewhere lost in the infinite fabric of time, the intricate woven cloths of history, silver and silk threads spun by everyday events both the mundane and beautiful, would be the reality of this ephemeral moment forever recorded. He conceded that he need not live another second after this night. 

Leaning in towards his victim in slow motion the hellish spirit pulled teasingly at Jared’s new collar. He smiled at eyes widening in fear, and parted his lips at this sight that appeared to amaze him so. Jared shifted desperately. A vain attempt to give him self more slack, create less pull on the belt wrapped around his aching neck. Jared’s struggling body jolted the form above him and provoked a steadily mounting wrath. With purest delight and unadulterated venom the figure jerked his arm dramatically, wordlessly, above Jared’s head. Jared’s body shot up in response, in a desperate bid to escape the crushing tightness, the closing of harsh leather around his throat. The profound pain of the tight pulling around his neck was close to unbearable. Slowly Jared’s world felt as if it were growing darker. Blackened and smudged around the edges; and completely blurred at its centre. Oxygen was becoming a distant memory. The result of deprivation was an intoxicating mix of a sharp crushing panic and indescribable bliss. Gasping on the fringes of life felt like a thousands pleasures had collided and conspired. 

Suddenly, unexpectedly, lips met like lovers’; but it felt to Jared as if his conqueror was claiming his prize, affirming their respective roles. The alluring demon revelled in tasting forcefully his gasping mouth, sampling anguish and pain. He dipped a tongue between Jared’s scream contorted lips and ran it suggestively along a dry tongue. Involuntarily Jared returned the gesture, straining his neck to explore his merciless companion’s depths. The sharp pain of another hard pull on the belt was imparted as an angry response; in return for that act of brazen want. Teeth sunk into Jared’s lower lip ruthlessly, a glorious punishment for pleasure sought so greedily, so wantonly. The electric tang of blood hit Jared’s tongue and swam within his mouth; gradually becoming lost in the deep kiss he still endured; enjoyed. The rust scented liquid makes a mouth once dry feel renewed, warm and pleasant. Jared felt a trail escape out from their close exchange, run from his mouth, over the chiselled contours of lower lip and trace down his chin. Jared’s lips felt stung and warmed. The infectious pain crawled from the initial source, and crept over his face and jaw, taking with it a dull hot flush. 

Jared’s twisted lover took a firm hold of his shivering face and with both hands held fast. Held on to a form weak from countless pains and pleasures; barely aware of its own captive state. Possessive fingers traced over cheekbones and tips crawled up features, to become lost in sweat soaked hair. He thrusts himself violently into the bound body below him and allows his arousal to painfully dig into the hollow of Jared’s hip. Reaping conflicting reactions. Pained gratitude, moans and cries pressed into lips locked in a breathless kiss.

Jared felt lost at this moment. So completely lost in pleasure. He heard himself groan; trying in vain, through lips violently forced to his, to beg to be taken. He felt the urgent, desperate, need to thrust his pelvis up to his possessor. So desperate just to be bestowed relief, release; so powerless to achieve it. Restricted, prevented from just reaching out. So unable to touch his partner; relish the sensation of contact initiated and imparted. It was the worst kind of feeling and the most intensely wonderful kind of feeling in one. Jared felt starved, lavished with pleasures yet deprived entirely of any expression; denied the subtle joys of mutual touches. 

Kisses crashed down on a defenceless neck and collar bone; and seized inches of quivering skin. Hot damp patches were left exposed to the air and caused strange shivering sensations. The free hand of the demon took possession of Jared’s waist, dug fingers into flesh and explored a body entirely unable to defend, respond. Fingernails grazed and tore and reaped gasps as they traced and meandered across and over exposed flesh. They explored every sweat beaded inch that was both warmed and chilled and as utterly at odds, in as much terrible conflict and turmoil and ecstasy, as his tortured mind. Unholy raptures took hold and promised to destroy psyche and soul. Promised and delivered. Jared felt ruined, felt broken.

The impatient figure, becoming seemingly enthralled then utterly bored with his effect on his toy, grabbed greedily at the fastening of Jared’s jeans. He ripped angrily at the material of waistband; causing bruising; burning the delicate flesh beneath. Red patches appeared and lingered. Felt as they looked, hot and pained. He pulled fiercely at the belt still wrapped around his fist, secured around his tortured companion’s neck. 

A neck, friction burnt and red, pulled desperately away from its torturer, disregarding the resulting chocking of this action. Pain caused involuntary tears to fall from aching eyes. A tear was licked firmly, violently, from a shuddering cheek. The ghouls tongue curled seductively to catch the warm salty taste and then lingered in an act of deliberate overstated possessiveness. 

Jared’s felt a cheek rest on his temple, lips brush against his exposed ear.

“Are you ready?” The ghost whispered, teased; the words delivered in cool tones. 

Jared felt stinging admiration creep over his tortured mind. Felt a reply beg to be voiced, but fail to be articulated.

The exquisite ghost smiled a demonic smile, brushed fingers over the cooling skin of Jared’s sweat touched forehead and looked down knowingly. He relinquished hold of the belt around Jared’s neck and let it fall softly by his side. Rising up and pulling away, softly and carefully he trailed hands over shoulders and down chest. Traced over abdomen, allowed fingers to gently caress as they progressed. 

Soft touches felt strange but sensual to Jared now, alien and exotic. He moaned lightly as one set of finger tips spread tentatively over a shaking hip, as the other rubbed lightly over clothed arousal. He sighed softly, scared and tortured, aroused and enthralled. Felt the coolness of air meeting cheeks bathed in tears as his companion slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Jared deliriously peered down to see the figure sitting atop him admiring his newly exposed pallid skin. That angelic smile greeted him again, and Jared mused that its obvious deception was its charm, the reason his arousal and frustration grew by the second. 

Without warning and ruthlessly the spirit gained a firm hold on unzipped jeans. He pulled them firmly from Jared’s shaking form and discarded them in a hasty flourish over his shoulder. Exposed Jared felt a shiver run over his body and down his spine. Felt a blush run over his face, and attempted to hide his embarrassment in the top of a bound arm. His companion’s eyes claimed his body, ran a cool look over every naked inch and made that blush burn over his entire form. Completely clothed that figure was entirely in control. Jared was truly his object to be gazed at, peered at, claimed. He felt a growing excitement at this realisation, felt it greet and numb his previous sensations of shame. 

The beautiful ghost stared at Jared as he unzipped, held a rose tinted lower lip between porcelain teeth lightly, and grinned. Seduction in every action, even in every absence of one. He placed his palms carefully in the hollows of Jared’s hips, frowned in concentration as he dug fingers into the flesh and leant over his prize.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned, emotion absent. The warning genuine.

Jared gasped. 

The reaction pleasure stained and entirely involuntary. 

The thought so filled him with urgent desire. Such a terrible desire. Desire that appalled him.

“Please,” he whispered softly, shamefully, through pained and swollen lips.

The looming figure nodded above him, forced his slender fingers deeper into bruising skin.

“Yes,” he breathed. And in agreement affirmed, “It is time.”


	4. C4 The Kill

A sharp inhalation of breath and the smiling eyes of a demon. 

That sickly sweet smile remained unmoved as its owner forced himself inside Jared; hands still grasping cruelly his bucking hips.

Pain had come just as the merciless ghost had promised. 

Pain clenched Jared’s teeth and forced shut his weary eyes.

”Please,” he wanted to scream. “Please God no,” he needed to say. The pain was just too much. And despite that desperate need, he felt his sadistic lips beg and his masochistic tongue plead for something else entirely. They wanted to scream out in unholy joy, to cry out in hedonistic pleasure.

“Oh God, yes,” he heard himself moan. 

But it was involuntary; the voice of some insane inner-self that welcomed the pain, that wanted this terrible torture.

Jared’s captor began to move swiftly; hard strokes that felt to Jared like nothing on this world. They injured and soothed. They were deepest bites and delicate kisses. They were harm and ecstasy all at once and regrettably this was what made him want these sensations all the more.

Jared forced open his aching eyes, allowing tears once trapped in their corners to tumble and fall from their captive home. Tears that crawled and meandered down flushed cheeks and left in their wake cool lines. Tiny rivers that revealed his deepest shame, painted clearly his suffering.

The other being grasped Jared’s face, resting palms softly on his dampened cheeks. Tentatively he ran fingers into sweat soaked hair. He looked down kindly at Jared, his eyes touched lightly with compassion, his lips turned up in the warmest smile. 

Jared offered a quivering smile in return; fighting back tears. He forced the unnatural act, unconsciously seeking his lover’s approval. A set of finger tips were run over his features in return, fell over his bruising jaw and sprawled against a heaving chest. The other set moved slowly to Jared’s side and reclaimed their former weapon.

The tight crushing around Jared’s neck felt like a familiar friend now. 

He forced his silence to remain through sharpest pain. Forced down cries and swallowed the shameful pleas that danced desperately up his throat. He resolved to endure, to hold on briefly to his wavering dignity through this all.

The ghost raised a quizzical eyebrow. Grinning; he displayed a look partly of intrigue but largely of amusement.

He lent upon the hand still grasping tightly a length of the belt around Jared’s neck; and with a smirk that challenged, that goaded and mocked, he wrapped his opposite palm followed by cool fingers, around Jared’s waiting erection.

Jared tried and failed to suppress the gasp and moan that followed. Could not hold down his arching hips or stop his breath from spilling out torn and ragged.

Relishing the reaction; the figure above Jared let his lips sit millimetres apart from his quarry. 

The hot breath of another fell into Jared’s mouth and burnt his tongue. The strange, sensual, heat spilled over its surface and induced within its owner uncontrollable pleasures.

The demon tightened his hand around Jared’s length and quickened the rhythmical stroking; pushed deeper his merciless thrusts. Let his lips meet Jared’s and their tongues clash. He bit lightly his lower lip and ran a tongue over its swollen surface. 

Jared let himself moan into that hot mouth and felt his lover react with swifter harder strokes. His climax was so near and all he wanted to do was hold it back; enjoy these sensations for another few moments. But it was coming like an invading force.

Jared moans grew louder and harder as he lay on the precipice of release. 

And as he came, his mouth contorted open in a cry of wildest pleasure, the ghost still lingering above him, lips hovering over his mouth, bit down as hard as he could on the lower lip of his victim. 

Jared found his release in the depths of pleasure; and in the heights of pain. He cried out in orgasm as blood yet again flowed from his lip; ran cooling down hot skin. Tears followed suit; cool and welcome. 

Gasping for breath, vision blurred, head still spinning out of control Jared lay staring up at his lover. His chest heaved; his lungs panicked for breath. He felt his pulse drumming angrily through his entire being. 

The ghost above Jared laid a light hand on his cheek.

“Sleep,” he whispered tenderly, running the back of his fingers down Jared‘s face; stopping briefly to wipe away with his thumb the fresh trail of blood that clung around his lip and chin.

Jared nodded gratefully. Closing his eyes; he let his captor’s gentle caresses lull him into sleep. Comatose and catatonic. Numbness spread through his limbs blanketing the remaining pain that subtly lingered. Jared felt himself fall into purest rest.

*

Jared awoke to loneliness. Arms unbound; sheets pulled lightly over his naked form. He was gone and in his place the obvious presence of absence stood. 

As he rose pain invaded every limb. 

He looked down at bruised wrists that burnt with the indelible stains of memories. Flashes of images; sparks of feelings invaded his mind. They caused him to shiver in the cold light of morning; exposed to reality, still infected with dreams. 

Smiling at each memento laced ache, each sharp pain that told of the events of the night before he resolved to dress.

* 

Light shone in brightly through the panes of the hotel windows. In great blades it cut and spilled into the room, hit the decadent interior and lingered possessively over their forms. 

Dressed Jared stood looking into the room’s time mottled mirror. Love swollen lips greeted him with a smile. Pale skin clashed prettily with the purple and blue and grey mottled bruise around and over his jaw. His hair fell about his face in such away that it allowed the reddened marks of lust and love to peer through from under unkempt locks. He raised a finger to a patch of blood sitting upon the side of his lip and winced. He relished the small sharp pain that ran through him; a small reminder of the events that had passed. He felt the pleasure of memories creep up and down his spine as he smiled at the marred face of his reflection. 

Somehow he was there. He was there painted on Jared lips; swimming in the blue of his eyes. Behind every feature that other being was present now. His beauty danced from within Jared and transformed the visage before him. Entranced Jared lifted a hand to the mirror, letting finger tips graze against its cool glassy surface.

“This is who I really am,” he whispered quietly.

Jared heard a muted shout reach him from out at the front of the hotel. The blast of a car’s horn followed. It had come; time to leave this place. Pack his things and leave; and take his memories with him. 

*

Out in the cool mountain air the breeze hit Jared’s skin in a way that cooled and soothed. Dark glasses obscured his eyes as he lifted his weary face to the sky; letting the damp wind flow over his features, rain touched and pure. Stood by his car, driver inside, Jared waited for his band mates. Dully he felt the faint fear of having to explain his appearance push its way to the front of his mind. He ran an uneasy tongue over his lower lip, closed his mouth to trace over the cuts inside his cheek. He closed his eyes concentrating on the dull hurt; on the cool air hitting his dampened lip.

The sound of footsteps roused him from his thoughts. The harsh crunch of rough gravel underfoot echoed around the quiet grounds and destroyed the deathly peace. 

The figures heading towards him all walked with their heads down. Unusually no one spoke, or laughed or even looked away from their own pair of feet marching slowly across the grounds.

“Hey Jared,” Matt almost whispered, refusing to look up. Briefly Jared smelt the distinct aroma of liquor hanging upon his friend, warm and ardent, infecting the fresh air of day. Behind him the others followed, apathy instilled in every step, heads hung low, hands buried in the depths of pockets.

“Some place huh?” Jared said distantly looking up at the grand decadence of the hotels exterior; the green ivy that marched elegantly up the white painted brickwork. 

His friends neglected to answer.

Jared drank in for the last time the commodious giant; grandiose masonry that remained unmoved by the night’s events.

Turning his back on the building, he ducked into the dim light of the cars back seats. Sat amongst the warm upholstery, and ran his fingers gently over the fabrics weave. Jared drew a breath followed by a deep sigh.

He felt him with him, sitting within; feeling the fabric in turn. He was there breathing in tandem to his lungs, sighing along with his sigh. 

This was who he truly was; Jared had never felt so sure.

“Drive,” Jared instructed coolly, the subtle tones of that other curling seductively off his tongue.


End file.
